


Save the Date

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Death, Faked Suicide, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Robbery, but let's see how it goes, this is kinda weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:39:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One for three isn't so bad, right?





	

On the day of August 2nd, 2010, Tyler Joseph couldn’t contain his excitement.

He couldn’t help the cheshire-like grin that spread on his face as soon as he woke up. It stayed there all day out of it’s own sheer will. But Tyler didn’t do anything to stop it, didn’t have any reason to. It _belonged_ there. He was _energized_ instantly, adrenaline pumping, pumping, pumping through his entire body even while he was just laying there in bed.

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the extra skip in his step that let him get around just a bit quicker, couldn’t help the giddiness bubbling up in his chest, bubbling up, up, up, not to go back down. Were there nerves there as well? Tyler supposed to. After all, he had a reason to be. But it wasn’t the kind of nervous that manifested in queasy stomachs and second thoughts. No, it was the kind of nervous that drove him even more, fueled his internal fire and never let it die out. It was the kind of nervous that Tyler _lived_ for.

Normally, stares bothered him. Normally, when he walked through the local mall of his hometown alone and he spotted people staring at him, pointing at him, _laughing_ at him, he got offended. He never let them get away with it. He always stopped dead in his tracks, and stared right back at them with a particular, signature twisted look until they dropped. Dropped smiles, dropped fingers, dropped dead, whatever. And he always walked off with his nose so high up in the air that all the blood rushed to his head. His face got so red, red with rage, red with blood.

But on August 2nd, 2010, it didn’t matter. He was too excited to care, too caught up in the anticipation and malicious energy that flowed through him, jolted him alive with every rushed inhale, exhale.

It was just so _easy_. So easy to ignore the questioning looks and the “Mommy, what’s wrong with that man?” when there was so much buzz, buzz, buzzing going on in his veins like he just shot up. But he didn’t. He didn’t shoot up, because what was the point in getting high off of ridiculously expensive drugs that can ruin your life when you can just get high off of life, high off of the excitement of what was to come? At least, that’s how Tyler saw it. But he knew that not everyone else saw it that way. But in all honesty, he didn’t care. He didn’t care because he was _just too excited_.

Truthfully, there was something to be said for the way people got worried when Tyler smiled. He had a fake smile, sure, one that he used in pictures, one that he used when he wanted people to think he was happy. That smile was great. It had perfectly curved lips and joy-ridden eyes, and dimples that sunk in just the right amount. That smile was so convincing and so, _so_ beautiful.

But when he was _really_ happy, oh. When Tyler was actually, genuinely happy, he beamed so hard it hurt. He smiled with such vigor and power when he felt that way that he could feel his dimples collapsing into his cheeks, almost touching his gums and teeth. Speaking of teeth, how sharp they were! They were sharp enough to stab and bite and grab and pull, and they were certainly sharp enough to scare children off when they came out.

There were rumors that Tyler had sharpened his teeth himself, stayed up all night once with a rusty old nail file and just sat there ripping away at his teeth for hours on end. Rumors that when he smiled and they came out, heads rolled and faces turned sour, and they caught the light in a way so strong it could blind people if they were looking. But they weren’t looking. They were never looking.

His eyes were a perfect match. When resting, his eyes were best described as a warm brown, a kind brown that you could go home to, cuddle up to after a bad day. They were hot coffee on winter mornings, hot chocolate for the kids. They were surrounded by soft, dark lashes that cast the most devious shadows and pale skin that contrasted in the most sinful way, and they were so warm.

But when Tyler _really_ smiled, when he actually, genuinely smiled, there was a certain light about them that sent shivers down spines. Something obscure that not even Tyler could put his finger on. But they sprung to life, they dazzled, shone; they basked in Tyler’s excited energy and fed off of it like leeches. And whatever that thing was, it was definitely enough to make flowers wilt and probably enough to freeze hell, and Tyler couldn’t help it. Never has been able to, never will be able to. But it wasn’t something that bothered him.

He quite liked it, in fact. He liked the feeling of being able to control the people around him, at least in this one way. He liked knowing that when he was in a good mood, when his teeth came out and his eyes sprung to life, he wouldn’t have anyone around to get in his way because no one would dare. No one would ever dare stand around the guy with the wolfish, creepy smile and the sinister eyes.

So when, on August 2nd, 2010, Tyler smiled his wicked smile and laughed his wicked laugh at nothing, nothing at all, he had no reason to be surprised when the people turned their heads quickly, covered their kids’ innocent eyes and pushed them away to wherever Tyler wasn’t.

“Mommy, what’s wrong with that man?” Tyler laughed harder when he heard it. Curled into himself like he was sick, and maybe he was, but he laughed nonetheless and hunched his shoulders and shook with giddy, childish delight.

On the day of August 2nd, 2010, Tyler Joseph couldn’t contain his excitement.

* * *

On the morning of July 24th, 2010, Josh Dun took a walk downtown.

It was a nice place, Josh was really tied to it. It had smooth, paved sidewalks and impressive architecture, all of which Josh wanted to photograph at any given second, and he typically did. But not on July 24th, 2010.

The downtown was brightly lit and energetic at night, people hustled and bustled all around, shopping, eating, you name it. There were concerts and music festivals in the big town center for the bands that everyone knew would never make it but were pleasant to listen to all the same. Especially with one too many glasses of wine.

But as much as Josh loved hearing the live music, he really preferred the mornings. He liked the serene quietness of it, when it wasn’t so busy and people didn’t bother him. In July, it was hot, too hot, but that didn’t stop Josh from wearing black jeans in the mornings. On July 24th, 2010, he didn’t have time to get hot, didn’t have time to sweat. He had something to do.

He walked along with headphones in his ears and tuned out the rest of the world. He never took note of the way the street was just slightly downhill, or the way some of the flagpoles that lined the streets were just slightly crooked. But he wasn’t there to notice the downhill streets or the crooked flagpoles, he had something to do.

With each elegant building and run-down storefront he passed, waves of mixed emotions washed further and further over him.

As he made his way past a little antique shop, he couldn’t hold back the small smile that spread across his lips with just a touch of nostalgia. The place was really lovely, and he was known to frequent there quite often. He knew the owners well, old Mr. and Mrs. Adams who had owned the store for as long as Josh could remember. He vaguely remembered going there with his parents when he was younger to visit them. Guilt briefly registered in his mind as he remembered the sickening, shattering noise of a little glass ballerina figurine as Josh bumped into it and sent it to it’s death on the floor. He shook it off. It was years ago. As he walked by, Josh realized that the shop still had the same, old, slightly musty smell that it always had. The smell was overpowered by the strong smell of coffee suddenly filling his nose.

Just next door to the antique shop was a coffee shop. Josh wished that it was a cute little hipster coffee shop. He wished it was a place that he could hang out and listen to some music that was probably too weird for anyone’s taste and drink some coffee that was probably too sweet for anyone’s taste but it wasn’t. In reality, it was just a Starbucks. Just a Starbucks, complete with overpriced coffee and tired college students as baristas and more tired college students as customers, sitting at the tables as they crammed for their classes. Josh had been there. He got it. Despite the fact that it was just a regular Starbucks and nothing special or artsy Josh still went there. He still sat there in the line behind plenty of other people and waited for his overpriced, over-sweetened, and over-everything coffee. Indifferent, he walked off.

Just a few stores down was a place that had Josh smiling all over again. It was the local tattoo shop, the only place Josh went to get tattoos done. He thought about the very first tattoo he got. He was underage, only 15, and he got it without his parents’ permission. But he was friends with one of the guys that worked there and he promised a tattoo for cheap. And Josh _had_ always wanted tattoos. The first one he got was just a small one, a little thing on the side of his wrist that he never really bothered to hide from his parents. And when his mom finally saw it one day, she flipped. Josh chuckled at the thought of her freaking out over one small tattoo because by July 24th, 2010, Josh had a full sleeve and then some. He wondered how she would react if she saw him then. The place was, admittedly, sketchy on the outside. At first glance, it was the kind of place that made people feel sorry for whoever got tattooed there. But, by July 24th, 2010, Josh didn’t trust anyone else to tattoo him, and he surely didn’t feel sorry for himself.

The place next door, the place that sat on the corner of the street, was one that made him at first cringe, and then smile. It was a cute little diner, perfect for first dates, and Josh couldn’t deny having taken many people there. But the only first date that stood out was the one that had happened most recently. A few years prior, Josh took his date there for their first date together. To put it simply, it went horribly. Josh spilled his drink all over the table, accidentally elbowed a waiter passing by, causing him to spill their food all over the floor, and forgot his wallet in the car and had to go run out and get it in the pouring rain. Truly and utterly, a mess. But, for some reason, his date found it endearing and was not deterred by Josh’s clumsiness. It ended up turning out just fine.

Josh’s memory montage was cut off by him suddenly remembering that he was not there to reflect on his past. He was there to get something done.

Josh took his headphones out of his ears when he approached his destination. He didn’t stop outside, just kept his feet moving down the sidewalk. Albeit slowly, but he was still moving. He didn’t go inside, didn’t even think about it, but he certainly took a good look at the place. As he looked in through the front of the shop, through the big open windows, he took a brief look at the employees moving about quickly behind the counter. He breathed out slightly when he saw just what he was looking for. He shifted his gaze from the deli counter over to the front right corner of the room. The table there was just perfect for one person, just perfect for just Josh. A metal table with some metal chairs, and that was it. There were two chairs there, but there wasn’t any need for the second one.

Light flooding in from the front of the store cast invasive shadows on the upper left corner of the room, but Josh still took a quick look up, up to the security camera mounted there, just in front of the deli counter. No more were in sight. He knew the deli was cheap, knew they couldn’t afford actual security.

Josh put his headphones back in, ducked his head lowly as he walked right past the deli and continued on his way in the unsuspecting silence of the morning.

On the morning of July 24th, 2010, Josh Dun took a walk downtown.

* * *

On the afternoon of July 16th, 2010, Tyler packed some suitcases.

During the day, it was quite nice; fairly warm, but that was to be expected for the middle of July. There was a slight breeze that danced through the screen of Tyler’s open bedroom window but it did not register on Tyler’s skin because he was sweating too much. His air conditioner was broken, and he didn’t have any time to do anything about it. Not when he was so busy. Not when he was so busy packing. Tyler’s house seemed to only get hotter and hotter as the night wore on, and the humidity of Tyler’s bedroom mixed with harsh lighting was almost unbearable.

To combat the heat, Tyler simply stayed camped out up in his room, alone, wearing nothing but underwear. He kept a cool glass of lemonade at his side, taking sips from it intermittently.

Tyler didn’t pack much, mostly for the reason that he didn’t really know what he was going to need. He was unsure of weather conditions and rooming situations and everything in between. But he figured that so long as he at least _got_ there, he could figure out the rest of the details later. He tried to pack as generally as he could, finding clothes that seemed appropriate for a fair variety of circumstances. But took special care to pack a select few things, a select few things that were indubitably important, no matter what.

Like some hats, for example. He figured that a hat could be used for any weather condition. If it was cold, he could shield his face from any wind. He could use it to keep his head at least somewhat warm. If it was hot and sunny, he could use it to block out the sun or the heat or whatever, because Tyler knew he would rather use a hat than sunglasses for that.

Admittedly, the hats were thin and made more for fashion rather than protecting from harsh weather, but Tyler didn’t dare take them out of the suitcases. He needed them. He used to not make himself out to be a hat guy, used to say that he didn’t look good in them, they didn’t sit on his head right, they messed up his hair. But by July 16th, 2010, Tyler figured out that he was, indeed, a hat guy.

Another important thing that Tyler packed was a box. It wasn’t a big box, in fact it was very small, and there was nothing inside. It was white and smooth, and it smelled of the clean cardboard. A soft layer of padding was inside the box to protect whatever could be in it.

It wasn’t the fact that Tyler had the box that was important, it was the box itself. This one little box, this one specific thing, that Tyler owned for as long as he could remember, was one of the most, if not _the_ most, important things he owned. The box didn’t really have one certain purpose, so Tyler really just used it for holding and touching and opening and closing and other things that didn’t really mean anything to Tyler. The box used to have a very specific purpose, but it was such a shame when that purpose was taken away.

He took a sip of his lemonade after he handled the box with special care, packing it somewhat separate from the other items in his suitcases.

The only other thing that Tyler noted as important to pack on July 16th, 2010, was some extra pairs of shoes. He packed enough to get him around wherever he was going. He packed some low black vans, not exactly the most sturdy or functional shoes he owned, he supposed, but he also supposed that they were the most comfortable, so that had to be important. But then he packed an extra pair, and then one pair more, just to be safe. Both of those pairs of shoes were also important, but for an entirely different reason. One of the extra pairs of shoes was just slightly larger than the other, but that was how it was supposed to be. One pair that Tyler packed was a pair of old sandals, worn-out from use and abuse through the years. He couldn’t remember when he had actually even bought them or when he even wore them, but he figured that if he bought them at some point then he must have needed them at some point. Perhaps he wore them in the shower in college or to the beach when he went with his family or maybe to the park to walk his dog. The shoes were a dark brown, quite ugly if you asked Tyler, but he needed them, so he packed them.

The other pair of extra shoes were some old black and red sneakers. Big and clunky and over-sized, Tyler would admit to only having worn them once or twice. They weren’t even really his type, because they were nothing like the light, comfortable black vans he wore most often. No, the extra shoes really weren’t his type, but they didn’t have to be. He packed them because he needed them.

Normally, Tyler packed shoes along with the rest of his things. He normally packed them wedged into the of the inside of his suitcase alongside the neat piles of clothes that sat in the middle. But on July 16th, 2010, Tyler packed two extra pairs of shoes in the side pocket of a carry-on.

Of the rest of the things Tyler packed in those suitcases, he couldn’t really point out anything that was that important. Not that some hats or a box or some extra pairs of shoes were really all that important, but to Tyler, they were certainly more important than socks or his glasses or a picture of his family.

He took one last sip of his lemonade when he finished packing.

On the afternoon of July 16th, 2010, Tyler packed some suitcases.

* * *

On the morning of May 19th, 2010, Josh graduated from college.

He was only there for the standard four years, and he knew that some of his peers were stuck there for 6 or more years for their other programs, but quite frankly, he didn’t care. He was just so relieved to be done with it.

It wasn’t that Josh didn’t like being a qualified technician and electrician, he really did. It was always somewhat of a dream for him. In fact, Josh had the earliest memories of him being interested in that sort of thing. He recalled a time in the fifth grade when his teacher showed the class a simple battery and lightbulb with some wires and told them to figure out how to work it. Josh was the first one to get the light bulb to light up, and he didn’t let anyone forget it. Immediately, Josh was fascinated. He went home that day and told his parents all about it. His interest in technology only continued through middle school when he joined the robotics team and through high school when he took as many technology and electronics classes he could and it continued all the way into college when Josh spent four years learning anything and everything about it. And on May 19th, 2010, he was finally done.

So it wasn’t that Josh didn’t like what he went to school for itself, he just didn’t like all the school work that came along with it. Josh grimaced as he thought about all the mistakes he made in college. All the times he stayed up way too late trying to cram for an exam that he would ultimately fail. All the times he forgot to do homework and then still managed to be surprised when his grades ended up dropping. All the times he had to deal with obnoxious frat boys who threw obnoxious parties and all the times he had to deal with petty sorority girls who stirred up all kinds of drama.

But after May 19th, 2010, none of those things were problems anymore. After May 19th, 2010, Josh could do anything with electronics. He could wire and rewire stereo systems, he could fix anyone’s computer and be their hero. And, most importantly, he could disable and enable whatever kind of technology he needed to, he was sure of it. Televisions, computers, cameras, anything. He learned enough in college, he graduated at the top of his class, what more did he need?

He knew the typical salary for someone with the kind of job that dealt with those things wasn’t that good, but that was okay. Josh didn’t want to be an electrician or a technician anyway. He just wanted to be able to do what those people could do. He wanted to be able to be that guy that people could call up when their computer was broken, the guy who was “good with technology.” And Josh didn’t really know _why_ he wanted to be That Guy. He just knew he wanted to be able to do things that others just didn’t understand. He wanted to know things other people didn’t. And after May 19th, 2010, he was no longer bound by the restraints that held him back from doing just that.

Truthfully, Josh didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do.

Perhaps he would be a teacher. Josh imagined himself in a classroom, surrounded by bitter high school students, trying to teach them about algebra. The kids didn’t like Josh, never really listened to what he had to say because they thought he never knew what he was talking about. They acted like they never needed him. But the day when Johnny’s laptop stopped working, the day it crashed and would not turn back on again, Josh was needed. Josh stepped in, rebooted his computer in a matter of seconds and he was finally needed. The other students perked up, actually started listening to Josh, because maybe, _maybe_ the guy actually knew something.

Or maybe Josh would be a singer. He pictured himself up on stage in the middle of a concert. The crowd was cheering, singing along to every word of every song and it was so loud and so electric. But suddenly, his mic stopped working and the people in the stadium lost their minds, launched into a state of absolute chaos because they couldn’t hear Josh anymore. Nobody knew what happened, not even the tech team. But Josh knew. Josh always knew. He rushed backstage and made a quick fix with some amplifier wiring, and the concert went on without another hitch.

Josh even figured that he could be a businessman. Just a boring, old, nine to five job in a cubicle that would at least pay the bills. And one day, Josh and his coworkers were in a meeting with the CEO of the company. The CEO couldn't be there, so he was set up on a video camera, front and center of the conference room where all the workers could see him. The meeting was going smoothly until the video camera froze, the CEO’s face stuck mid-sentence and the audio was dead. Everyone was immediately concerned. Everyone but Josh. Josh just calmly stood up, made his way over to the monitor and reworked the connection, and the CEO’s face was back to moving on the screen, his voice booming through the audio. He did it all with ease, without a second thought, front and center of the conference room where all the workers could see him. Everyone was amazed and grateful to have Josh. To have That Guy. To have the guy that was good with technology.

So it really didn’t matter to him whatever job he ended up getting. The only thing that mattered was that he would be able to handle whatever sort of technical difficulty that he happened to come across, and that other people would be there to see it. And he could, especially with a degree for doing so.

On the morning of May 19th, 2010, Josh graduated from college.

* * *

On the morning of April 14th, 2010, Tyler went to visit his parents.

They didn’t live that far away from his own apartment, so he figured that a nice surprise visit couldn’t hurt anyone. On his drive there, Tyler held one hand on the steering wheel, the other running through his hair calmly as basked in the serene, sylvan atmosphere of the town in which his parents lived. It was high on a hillside, surrounded by forests and wildlife and a complete lack of neighbors. Sitting comfortably on acres and acres of land, Tyler’s parents’ house was a Victorian beauty, something regal yet rustic and something else that Tyler couldn’t put his finger on but it definitely pulled the place together.

When he arrived, his parents were so surprised to see him. And Tyler was genuinely surprised when he saw them too. His mother was shorter than he remembered, her hair shorter and lacking the former shine he used to know so well. But she still wore the same, sapphire earrings that she had for as long as Tyler could remember; the ones he used to play with when she held him on her hip as a child. Tyler’s dad had changed too. His hair was grayer than Tyler remembered, more wrinkles lined his forehead and cheeks, but Tyler was glad to see that he still looked like he was taking care of himself. After all, it had been months since they had seen each other, and none of them were ever particularly good with responding to calls or text messages. But none of that mattered, because Tyler got there.

His parents did what parents with grown-up kids typically did; fed him too much, worried too much, meddled too much, but Tyler appreciated their concern, and he understood it.

After eating a large breakfast as a family, Mrs. Joseph remained inside to clean up a bit while Tyler and Mr. Joseph went outside to the backyard. They stood on the wooden deck that sat high above the ground, looking out into the wilderness in front of them. They made light conversation, discussed topics that really, didn’t matter at all to Tyler but he was always appreciative of the sentiment that came with it. Eventually, the topic of wild animals and hunting came up, and Tyler was surprised to hear that his father had just recently shot and killed a deer right in his own backyard. Noticing Tyler’s shock, Mr. Joseph silently gestured for his son to follow him, and Tyler did without question.

Tyler paced behind his father silently, the only sound was the rough brush of infrequently tamed grass rubbing up against their shoes. Tyler thought the silence was almost unnerving, but the thought immediately left his mind once they approached a place Tyler had forgotten even existed.

When they reached a shed, Tyler’s heart rate almost quickened. _Almost_ . He knew what the shed was, knew that when he was a kid, he was never allowed to touch it. Never allowed to even go _near_ it. But, for God’s sake, he wasn’t a kid anymore. No, by April 14th, 2010, he was a man. A fully grown, mostly capable adult who was finally allowed to see his dad’s shed. At the shed full of outdoorsman supplies, Tyler’s dad handed him a gun.

Tyler was taken aback. The gun he held was the largest gun he had ever held before. It was much larger than the only gun he had ever held before, the gun he kept in his own place in case of emergencies that he had never actually used before.

But this gun felt heavy and unfamiliar in his hands as he ran his fingers along the lengthy, smooth barrel and he couldn’t deny the slight nervousness that came over him. He had never learned how to shoot before, at least not properly. Some boys during high school tried to show him with a BB gun, but it was definitely not the same thing.

Ignoring the apprehensive side of Tyler’s expression in favor of focusing on the excited side, Mr. Joseph guided Tyler through a semi-wrecked gate in the backyard and down a hill, into the woods and into an open area. The open area was just that- open. Open and flat and empty. No plants thriving or bushes growing or animals running about, at least not in the mornings. But there were trees that had targets on them, and Tyler got the jist of what his dad wanted him to do.

After a brief, admittedly useless lesson from his dad on proper gun handling and usage, Tyler lined the barrel of the gun up to the target on one of the trees, and fired a shot without letting himself think too much about it. It hit just outside the target’s bullseye, and he stayed still for a moment after firing, wondering if it really even happened. He eventually dropped his arms, gun still in his right hand as he registered the sound of his dad laughing out loud, rejoicing, and proceeding to make an endless stream of comments about how his son was a natural gunman, how he couldn’t wait to go hunting with him now. Maybe Tyler had found his calling. He stood dumbfounded, staring at the bullet hole in the tree. Tyler had never fired a gun before, let alone one that big, but on April 14th, 2010, he did. And on April 14th, 2010, he continued to do so with his father at his side.

After a brief verbal celebration of his newfound skill with both of his parents, Tyler decided to head home. A lovely trip it was, he would have to do it again sometime soon. On the drive home, he forgot all about the breakfast, about how his parents had changed, and about the gun as he relished in the woodsy smell that got weaker and weaker the further and further away from there he got.

On the morning of April 14th, 2010, Tyler went to visit his parents.

* * *

On the evening of February 9th, 2010, Josh bought some plane tickets.

It was spontaneous, and not all of the details were planned, but Josh bought the tickets nonetheless. First class, too. Nothing cheap, but it was going to be worth it. Josh was sure of it.

Truthfully, Josh hated airplanes. He hated flying in general, really. The idea that he was literally soaring through the air, thousands of feet above the ground terrified him. The way his ears popped when the plane lifted off or landed, the way he felt like the plane could plummet to the ground and crash at any second. Surely, everyone inside the plane would die instantly if that happened. Who wouldn’t hate that?

Not to mention that he hated the preparation process for flying. No matter how early Josh got to the airport, he still always managed to be late for the plane. He always seemed to get stuck in the airport for far longer than he needed to be, and Josh hated the airports as well. They were either so sterile and creepy or hectic and stress-inducing. Either way, Josh always seemed to run into problems at airports.

And he hated the way he was treated on airplanes. Once he finally got on, he would be looking forward to a nice, relaxing flight where he could just sit back and let the pilot to their thing. But no, of course not. Because the flight attendants were always there, always being loud and obnoxious and really, just doing their job but doing it in a way that was so snobby and stuck-up. Josh hated it. Hated their holier-than-thou attitude they had just because they could. And he hated the crappy food they sold on their crappy carts, there was never anything they offered that had a taste so strong it would block out the bad taste that airplanes put in his mouth anyway.

He hated the bratty kids that he always had to sit next to on the plane ride. Somehow, whenever Josh had to fly alone, he always got stuck next to some kid who was either crying, talking, or moving around the whole time. There was always the kid that wouldn’t leave Josh alone, wouldn’t let him enjoy his book in peace without asking what he was reading and who it was by and what it was about and all the other things that were so unimportant it was almost laughable. And if the kid had any sense of boundaries, Josh couldn’t tell, because they were always moving around so much that they took up half of the seat next to them. And he was always left wondering if the kid’s parent knew what was going on. Or maybe the kid was flying alone, who knows? But why would a person trust their little kid to fly alone when they couldn’t even sit in their own seat properly? Josh never understood.

So overall, Josh really hated airplanes and airports and flying and everything that came with it. But on February 9th, 2010, Josh’s hatred of flying didn’t stop him from buying those plane tickets. Because he knew that it would be worth it. He knew that whatever was going to happen would be worth the pain of flying. And at least the airport wasn’t too far from his house. Josh preferred to have a long flight rather than having a long drive to the airport, because a shorter drive to the airport meant less time spent thinking about the agony that was to come.

Josh was quite uncertain about the plane ride. He didn’t exactly plan for all of the details. He didn’t have everything calculated, but he left that up to others; other things, other people, other factors, whatever. He was anxious, and he wasn’t really ready, but he had no choice. He had to just go along with it, go along with whatever direction his life and the people in it pulled him in. So that’s what he did. He just sat there at his desk, right hand on his laptop set atop a desk calendar, left hand playing with the frayed strings of his hoodie as he made the final purchase. They were one-way tickets, and he realized that there really was no going back.

He had more than one ticket, but he wasn’t sure that all or even one of them would end up being used. He wasn’t even sure that the trip would actually happen, because although there was no specific reason for it, Josh was concerned that things would go horribly wrong before the trip even took place. But he couldn’t think about that, couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if that were to be the case. He just sat there at his desk with his laptop on a desk calendar and his right hand entering his credit card information and his left hand anxiously fiddling with his hoodie strings and he finished the transaction.

Josh liked to think that he always had a choice in life, no matter how old he got. When he was younger, he could have stolen that candy that he wanted so bad from the convenience store or he could have put it back because he knew it was wrong. At his age, he could go out to that party and mess up his relationship once again, or he could stay home and be fair. When he got older, he could take that job offer across the country and make more money, or he could stay where his friends and family lived and try to find another job nearby. He always had a choice. But on February 9th, 2010, Josh didn’t have a choice. He just let his life and the people in it force him to press to confirm his order. First class, too. Nothing cheap, but it was going to be worth it. Josh was sure of it.

  
On the evening of February 9th, 2010, Josh bought some plane tickets.

* * *

On the night of December 6th, 2009, someone broke into Tyler’s apartment.

  
Just five short days after Tyler turned 22, someone broke into his place. It wasn’t even that nice of an apartment, really, just some shabby little thing he moved into as a 21-year-old who wasn’t making that much money. So Tyler couldn’t for the life of him understand why someone would want to break into his place, of all places.

On the night that it happened, Tyler wasn’t even at home. He was stranded at work, of course stuck with closing up at midnight, so he wasn’t even there when the intruder entered. No, he was too busy dealing with rude customers who didn’t understand the concept of expired coupons and cash registers that never worked and an obnoxious boss who was always hovering over him. And on the day his place was broken into, Tyler had wanted nothing more than to go home. Little did he know what home would be like when he got there.

Upon returning back to his apartment after a long day, Tyler was exhausted and irritated, wanting nothing more than to get at least some sleep. But he couldn’t do that when something was just so undeniably _off_ about his apartment. There was something eerie about the place that sure, could have had something to do with it being nearly 1 am, but Tyler had done that before. Tyler had come home late and stayed in his apartment but it had been nothing like it was on the night of December 6th, 2010. It was just _different_. Tyler couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he could tell that something was wrong. It was nothing major, maybe just a few items shifted over slightly. Slightly, but enough for Tyler to be able to notice it. After all, he had been living in the place long enough to know where things went and to know that he never really rearranged anything, so when a lamp cord was moved and some dish towels were out of place and some more items were not where he left them before he left for work, he knew something was up.

Hesitantly, he made his way to his bedroom. So hesitantly, because he didn’t know if the intruder was still in the apartment, and there surely was no one else in the rest of the place. He tiptoed even though he was on carpet and his footsteps couldn’t be heard. He held his breath as he made his way in through the open doorway slowly. Upon entering, he was partially relieved and partially angry to find that there was no one else in the room.

In his bedroom, Tyler checked to see if his laptop, TV, or anything else of importance had been stolen. But his laptop was still sitting neatly on his desk, and his TV was still mounted firmly on the wall, and things seemed to all be fine. Until, of course, they weren’t.

Right as he was about to go to bed, about to convince himself that there never even was a robber there in the first place, Tyler stopped himself. He stopped dead in his tracks on his way to the bathroom when he noticed what was missing from his room. The one thing that simply _could not_ go missing. Right on top of his dresser, right under his mirror, there was an empty spot where he always kept his grandmother’s ring.

His grandmother had given him the ring right while she was on her deathbed. It was morbid, and it was strange, but it was something sentimental to Tyler. His grandmother had plucked it right off of her shriveled finger and dropped it into Tyler’s palm as she told him to lean down, come closer, closer, as she whispered something into his ear. Something no one else could hear, something that Tyler would never tell a single soul for as long as he lived. Something that held more importance in Tyler’s life than anything else. The diamond-encrusted ring was a visual representation of what she said to him that day, and he felt his heart physically shatter with the realization that on December 6th, 2009, someone had stolen it.

The sadness was quickly replaced with anger, though; white-hot fury emerging as Tyler realized that he knew _exactly_ who had stolen the ring. He knew _exactly_ who had come into his apartment, his own _home_ and snatched it away from him. There was only one other person in the world who knew about it, only one other person who knew how much it meant to Tyler. Only one other person that he thought he could love and trust unconditionally, but apparently, that love and trust had been betrayed, and Tyler was fuming with hurt.

Disturbed but not defeated, Tyler continued to get ready for bed, trying to figure out what to do about that ring. Surely he would get it back, but how? He could tell the police, but then he realized that he just really didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, because although it was a huge deal to Tyler, it wasn’t anyone else’s business; certainly not the cops’. And as much as the person betrayed him, Tyler couldn’t bring himself to turn them into the cops and have them arrested for robbery. Because then, he wouldn’t get to do something about it himself first.

So instead, he formulated another plan. Something that would be painless for everyone involved, and an easy fix for the problem. But there were so many risks that went along with the plan, so many variables that could make it turn out horribly wrong for him and for whoever else. Tyler was torn. He got into his bed that suddenly seemed more uncomfortable than it ever had before, and he drifted off, wondering if the plan would work out the way he hoped or if it would backfire miserably.

On the night of December 6th, 2009, someone broke into Tyler’s apartment.

* * *

On August 3rd, 2010, three men were pronounced dead.

The day was hot and humid, the kind of day that made you want to just stay inside in the air conditioning and do nothing. But Josh had no time to do nothing. Josh had something to get done.

Once again clad in black jeans that were entirely inappropriate for the conditions, Josh made his way downtown. He strolled along, ignored the antique shop and the Starbucks and the tattoo parlor and the diner as he set out on his trip to the deli. Once he approached the place, he stopped outside momentarily. He stopped, partially because he was realizing that it was now or never at that point, and partially to look in through the window to the counter. The place was nearly empty, just how Josh needed it. Only one employee was there moving around behind the counter, and it was exactly who was supposed to be there. There were a few other customers in the deli, but that wasn’t a problem. He took a deep breath, then entered.

Immediately, he went to the front right corner of the store and sat down in the metal chair at the little metal table. The employee working behind the counter looked at him. Josh knew him. But the guy didn’t know Josh. He shouldn’t have, they’d never met before. When the guy looked away, Josh looked up. Nonchalantly, he looked up to the security camera still mounted uselessly to the ceiling. He briefly glanced back down to the counter and stood up when he saw that the worker had turned his back to Josh and the rest of the place, preparing a large order that would keep him distracted for a while.

With no rush, Josh sauntered over to the security camera and hopped up on a chair underneath it. He took a look at the camera and was pleased to see that everything was in place that he needed. Josh knew that anyone could break a security camera, anyone could just cut the cords or smash the screen and that would be it. But Josh knew about something others didn’t understand. He knew how to make it look like it hadn’t been touched, knew which cords to disconnect and how to disable them with ease. Because Josh was good with technology. Josh was That Guy. Josh loved being That Guy.

After disabling the camera with absolute practiced efficiency, Josh stepped back down to the ground, pleased to see that the guy behind the counter hadn’t noticed anything. But that didn’t mean no one else did. A group of teenagers, no older than sixteen or seventeen, stood in front of him, two of them giving him a strange look. Josh was quick to reassure them, though, as he leaned in and whispered that it was okay, the employee was his friend, he was just messing with him. They believed him, turned back to face the counter and to ignore the weird guy who just disabled a security camera as some kind of lame prank on his friend. And Josh went back to his chair.

Just as he sat down, the guy behind the counter turned back around with sandwiches in his hands, ready to distribute them to the teenagers. He didn’t notice the door of the deli opening, didn’t notice Tyler stepping inside, stopping just in front of the door.

Josh stood up then. He went over to Tyler and stood behind him, all while the deli worker was ringing up an order. Josh touched Tyler’s right hip lightly, gently, sweetly as he passed him, and Tyler was ready. The employee finally looked up from his task when he heard the unmistakable _click_ of a gun.

Tyler stood there, right arm out at a ninety degree angle, aimed directly at his brother, with the most stoic expression he could muster. He wanted to smile, wanted to pull his genuine smile that made heads turn away but he couldn’t. He wanted people to watch. He pulled the trigger, shot and killed the man behind the counter in one instant. He shot and killed his brother. Immediately following the sound of the gunshot firing, Josh stepped out and made his way to his car while Tyler remained inside. Ignoring the terrorized, panicked screams of the teenagers still watching on, he made quick work to rummage through his brother’s pockets to find what was rightfully his. Once he found what he was looking for, he held himself back from spitting on the bullet hole in the dead man’s head, and left the place with a fake smile on his face.

Josh and Tyler both broke out into a full-on sprint as they made their way to their respective cars, ignoring their aching feet and the confused passers-by. They made good time in getting out of the parking lot as they made their way to their next destination. Speeding down the road, Josh followed closely behind Tyler en route to the most desolate part of town, the part of town with the little lake and drawbridge that they’d visited together so many times before.

Upon arriving at the lake, Tyler parked his car as close to the water’s edge as possible, drove through whatever weeds and bushes he had to to make it look real. He busted out of the driver’s door and opened the trunk to get out two suitcases and a carry on with two extra pairs of shoes. Tyler took the shoes, one pair of faded brown sandals and one pair of slightly larger black and white sneakers. Josh almost made a comment about how he was going to miss those sneakers, but decided against it. Instead, he took the two suitcases from the trunk of Tyler’s car and put them in the trunk of his own. He got into the driver’s seat, watched as Tyler placed the two pairs of shoes near the edge of the lake. He squinted questioningly as he noticed the way Tyler was just stood there for a moment, looking down at the shoes and then out to the water as he seemed to forget that they were on a tight schedule.

He honked the horn, effectively grabbing the attention of Tyler who immediately rushed over to the car and hopped into the passenger’s seat. Neither of them said anything as Josh drove away before Tyler even had the door closed all the way.

Thanks to his speeding, Josh pulled up to a nearly empty parking lot in record time. He and Tyler shared a brief moment of eye contact, of a subliminal affirmation, before they jumped out to get the suitcases from the back of the car. They rolled them down from the third floor of the parking garage, not bothering to take an elevator as they caught a taxi to take them to the airport.

Josh hated flying. But he was glad that the airport wasn’t far away, because he preferred to have a long flight rather than a long drive to their airport. Less time to think about the agony that was to come. So he sat in the back of the taxi in silence with Tyler, and didn’t really even have time to catch his breath before they arrived at the airport. Josh tossed the driver a wad of bills, probably far too much for the short drive but there was no time to stop and get change.

They rushed into the airport to check their luggage then head to security. But before his bag was checked, Tyler reached into a side pocket of the bag and took something out, something small that he put in his pocket so quickly that it may not have even happened. They kept a low profile as they went through security, because they didn’t come so far for the plan to be ruined right at the end. Not that it would have been. Surely, word wouldn’t travel fast. At the terminal, Josh pulled out two tickets and handed one to Tyler who took it with a small smile. Josh was glad to know that both of the tickets actually would be used, because that meant nothing went wrong. After all, they were expensive. First class.

Josh hated flying, but he couldn’t have been more relieved when one of the flight attendants stepped out into the terminal to announce that the first class passengers for their flight were to begin boarding. The two stood up amongst the other first class riders, and Josh touched Tyler’s right hip again, lightly, gently, sweetly before the headed over to the ticketing desk. They handed their tickets to the attendant easily, anxiously boarded and found their seats. They faced each other while the rest of the passengers boarded, kept their heads down and turned in toward each other. And when the plane finally took off after a boring lesson on what to do in case of an emergency, they both heaved out sighs of relief.

Sometime along the way, Tyler seemed to remember what got them there, and he took out two things from his pocket. First was a box. A small, empty box that used to sit on his dresser and hold a very special ring. And secondly, he took out the ring. It was lightly dusted with lint from being in both his and his brother’s pocket, but he took it out nonetheless, and placed it into the box and held it firmly in his hand.

Josh looked over then, to see Tyler holding the box with the ring inside as he stared at it with a focused expression. Josh stared, too, for a moment. But then he took the ring out of the box, ignored Tyler’s look of confusion as he placed the ring onto Tyler’s ring finger. Careful; so careful that it seemed that he feared it would break with the slightest touch. Tyler’s face was almost disinterested, eyebrows raised as he held his hand out, twisted it about to examine the way the ring looked on his finger from all angles. But eventually a small, content smile grew on his lips. Josh gripped Tyler’s chin lightly and turned his head so that they were facing each other again, relished in the way Tyler’s eyelashes fluttered gently like butterfly wings as he pulled him in for a sweet peck on the lips.

Josh hated flying, and he really hated obnoxious flight attendants that made purposely obvious sounds of disgust when he kissed his boyfriend. But a quick side-eyed glare from Josh was enough to make her scurry off, obnoxious pumps tapping along the floor.

At one point toward the end of the flight, Josh and Tyler overheard the conversation between two people sitting across the aisle from them. There was a middle aged woman reading something from her phone, speaking out loud to her husband as she adjusted the glasses that sat low on the tip of her nose. She read aloud about how three men died someplace in Ohio.

“One of them was shot,” she said, “the other two drowned themselves.” Close enough.

“Says here one of the ones that drowned was suicidal, anyways.” Tyler twitched slightly. Or maybe it was just a shudder. Either way, Josh wanted to tell her to stop talking about Tyler like that, like he wasn’t right next to them. But he figured that wouldn’t have ended well.

“Two of them were brothers, too. There’s a picture . . .” The woman squinted at the picture, focusing with furrowed eyebrows. But her face dropped in an instant, jaw slack as she picked her head up and turned to direct a concerned, almost fearful look at Tyler.

Tyler wasn’t concerned. He was amused. He looked right back at the woman as he smiled. He actually, genuinely smiled; razor-sharp teeth shone brilliantly on display, eyes ablaze with dangerous light. The woman thought she was scared before, but it was clear she hadn’t known fear until Tyler sent that smile her way. She looked away instantly, shut off her phone as she averted her eyes. Josh only smirked back at Tyler as he rubbed his hand with the ring on it.

On August 3rd, 2010, three men were pronounced dead.

But one for three isn’t so bad, right?


End file.
